The Movie Who Wasn’t There (Where “There” Equals “Any Good At All”).

Okay, so in between mundane tasks like dishes and trying to make myself fall asleep at night, I’m watching this movie on Netflix called The Man Who Wasn’t There. It’s astounding. Like, seriously grippingly, perplexingly captivating in its utterly comprehensive top-to-bottom incompetence. It is the most shittiest movie that I can ever imagine anyone having sunk a dime into. Like, honestly, I’m re-thinking the top slot that Highlander II has always held in that regard.

It’s like someone wanted to make a porno movie in the early eighties, but forgot to put in the fucking. Or, wait; like it started out as a porno, but then someone threw enough money into the budget to hire a name star; say, this up-and-coming Guttenberg kid from that Village People movie? He’s got that handsome/goofball thing going. Act? Sure, he can read. Why are we still talking about whatever that was before our drinks came?

Or it’s like a twelve-year-old made a movie after flunking out of film school. Like, I want to put all the boobies in and the butss too (including the boy butts because they are FUNNYS) and then edit it with my elbows like they always told me NOT to but I’LL SHOW THEM!!! Jerkwad professor tell ME a shot has to end when none of the actors have anything left to say.

It seriously takes almost twenty minutes to actually start; by the time you’re thirty-five minutes in, everything that has happened would have taken place as a cold opening on like CSI: Invisible Knucklehead or something, before the opening credits even roll. The script is horrendous, the action makes no sense, the plot points vary between “suspension of disbelief” and “these are not the logic you are looking for.” The performances are a bafflingly impossible combination of stiff and flaccid, and the main character’s lines are literally phoned in; half the time, he’s not even in the shot (because he’s invisible, right? and evidently reading his lines into a different mike—and you can hear the difference in sound, even over shitty Netflix digital internet reproduction).

Oh, and if anyone ever puts “Steve Guttenberg” and “actor” in the same sentence, the rest of it had better consist of “could maybe spell the word” and a question mark. Because any other usage is contrary to both common sense and decency.

So, yeah; I’m not even halfway, but I am riveted and will definitely be seeing this thing through. Did I mention it’s just shy of two hours? Also, it has Jeffery Tambor playing a Russian asshole. Oh, sorry—spoiler alert.


Screen shit 2013-06-30